


anything but my name

by plinys



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: "Again,” she prompts.Sara, thankfully, does not deny her of this, her lips quirking up into an almost sultry smile as she says - “Director Sharpe.”(A smut episode tag to "No Country For Old Dads")





	anything but my name

**Author's Note:**

> I had two ideas for smut immediately following the episode, this is the softer of the two. The other will be coming later this week.

“Director Sharpe.”

There’s something about the way Sara says it, that tone of voice, the same tone she’d been using the night before when she’d said Ava’s name over and over again until she couldn’t say anything at all, couldn’t do anything but lay pliant underneath Ava’s hands, broken moans falling from her lips, a shine of sweat against her flushed skin -  _ last night  _ had been something, but tonight…

Tonight is a whole new adventure.

And Ava needs the distraction. Desperately, because there’s too many other thoughts in her head, doubts and worries and stresses and insecurities, the fact that she was now  _ Director  _ of the Time Bureau was up there at the top of the list.

Hearing the title  _ Director  _ in front of her name over and over again had done nothing but make the pit of stress inside of her grow deeper and deeper with each time it was said, and yet somehow…

“Don’t,” she says, softly, not quite a command, not quite a request. “Not here, just Ava… Please just-”

“Director Sharpe,” Sara says, ignoring her. Though it is softer this one. Pressing the lightest of kisses to her lips. “ _ My   _ Director.” 

There’s a hint of possessiveness in her voice.

A hint that sends a shiver up Ava’s spine. 

She shifts closer to Sara. 

“Again,” she prompts. This time wanting to hear it. Hear the title that had been causing her much worry, offered up from Sara’s lips like the most precious of gifts. 

Sara, thankfully, does not deny her of this, her lips quirking up into an almost sultry smile as she says -  _ “Director Sharpe _ .”

Somehow hearing those two words on Sara’s lips changed everything.

Suddenly there was nothing that Ava would rather be called.

They’re laying side by side in bed, close together, what had originally been intended for comfort becoming far more, when the hands that Sara had been pressing against her in an act of comfort had turned more eager, slowly slipping Ava of her layers as they had lain side by side. 

Her suit jacket had been slipped from her shoulder, the buttons of her top undone, Sara’s hand slipped up under the cup of her bra, pinching her right nipple between two of her fingers, tight and pulling, the pressure enough to ground Ava but also to make her feel good.

“Let me take care of you,” Sara says, softly, barely a whisper between them.

Ava nods slowly. Not trusting her voice.

She’s not certain the last time she got comfort of any kind from anyone else. If she ever really has. But when Sara kisses her soft and sure, offering herself willing to Ava. She feels it for a second, a tugging in her chest, that makes her heart ache, that makes her very  _ soul  _ ache. If there was any doubt in her mind, any hesitation, when it came to this, when it came to  _ Sara _ , they were gone in an instant.

This was the only place she wanted to be.

She nods once more.

There’s a soft press of lips against hers. Brief, just for a moment, before she pulls away. Her voice dropping to that low tone, the one that sends chills up Ava’s spine, “Let me help you feel good,  _ Director  _ Sharpe.”

She wants that, so desperately.

This time Ava is the one that initiates the kiss. A kiss that is no longer soft, but hot and heated, desperate and rushed, bringing back some of that fire from the night before. When they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off of each other for more than a second, when Ava had came so many times that she’d lost count, lost the ability to focus on anything other than falling to pieces over and over again, to focus on anything other than the beautiful woman that had been lucky enough to have welcome her into her bed.

Ava shifts slightly when Sara’s hand goes to the fly of her work pants, undoing them with the same ease that she had done the night before, pushing them down off Ava.

She breaks apart from the kiss for a moment. Ever so briefly so that they can both tug themselves free of their layers. Ava pulls her pants fully off, while she watches Sara pull off her own top. Ava watches Sara’s toned stomach shifting as she pulls the top over her head, before undoing her bra in one fluid movement as well. However, when Ava moves to undo her own, Sara’s hands meet hers stopping them, as Sara finished what she had started, fully pushing Ava’s shirt off of her shoulders, her fingers brushing against the curves of Ava’s breasts as she helps her take off her bra.

It's softer, more domestic than they have any right to be this early on in this whole relationship.

And yet, it feels right.

Sara really was special. Knowing just how to take care of her. 

Ava is usually never the type to relinquish control, but there’s something about Sara - something about being here in this moment, where nothing else matters but the woman above her and the way their bodies move together - that makes Ava willing to do so. 

She lets Sara takes control.

Sara’s hands skim over her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake, she shivers slightly against Sara’s touch, a purposeful touch, one that ends with her hands against Ava’s hips.

She doesn’t move for a moment, one that lingers long enough that Ava bucks her hips slightly in an attempt to urge her on.

“Patience,” Sara says in a teasing tone.

Ava can’t help the frustration and need that slips into her voice.

“God, you-”

“Yes?”

“I thought you were supposed to be making me feel good,” Ava says, pointedly directing her hips up against Sara’s again. 

“Is that an order,  _ Director Sharpe _ ,” Sara asks, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Ava uses the voice she’s only ever used on annoyances at the Bureau before, as she says, “Fuck me,  _ Captain Lance.” _

Sara doesn’t have to be told twice.

The hands that had been holding her down move in an instant; she parts her thighs easily, welcoming Sara in. Welcoming the press of her fingers up against her folds, slipping inside of her, working her body with the familiarity that they’d developed the night before.

She lets herself get lost to the sensation.

Sara’s fingers inside of her.

Sara’s lips against her skin.

Sara’s presence grounding her here in this moment.

Ava’s shocked to find wetness on her cheeks, appearing unspokenly and without warning. She had never been the type to cry during sex. But she cannot help it, not with the soft, gentle tone of Sara’s voice as she calls her  _ Director Sharpe  _ over and over again, the way her kisses are light as feathers against Ava’s skin, the way the fingers inside of her move slowly, drawing the moment out.

It seems Sara has a habit of changing her habits, and she can't help when the choked noise that spills from her lips is more of a sob than a moan.

Sara’s eyes flash with concern at the sound. Looking up to meet Ava’s, only making the tightness in her chest more noticeable.

She knows it's not the right time, knows to keep the words in, but for a second she nearly tells Sara right then and there what she feels in her heart.

That she's falling in love with her and doesn't know how to handle any of this.

Instead all she manages to say is “thank you” which is nowhere near enough. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Sara says, before moving back up Ava’s body to kiss her properly. It’s a deep kiss, one that lingers, one that is punctuated by the fingers pressing up inside of her at all the right angles. 

When her eyes slip shut to better concentrate on the feel of Sara, she cannot miss the lingering wetness in her eyelashes, sticking to her cheeks.

Wetness that Sara moves her mouth to kiss. Brushing lightly with her lips. When she speaks, Ava can feel Sara’s words as if they were uttered into her very soul, “You’re going to be the greatest Director the Time Bureau has ever had.”

Sara always has a way of doing this.

Subtle encouragement, right when Ava needs it most.

“I don't,” she starts, and stops herself. Unable to finish the sentence. 

“You are,” Sara insists, with one last kiss to her cheek, before propping herself up to stare down into Ava’s eyes.

As Ava meets her gaze, it is impossible to miss the dark heat in those blue eyes, but something else-  _ trust-  _ a belief in Ava.

That look lingers, even when her smile shifts to a more familiar teasing one. “And anyways, I can't wait to eat you out in the big fancy  _ Time Bureau Director’s  _ office of yours, Director Sharpe.” 

This time when Ava lets out a groan it's of pleasure.

Coupled with the increased speed of Sara’s fingers thrusting in and out of her with precision and purpose. Her pleasure building with each movement of Sara’s hand.

“I feel like I should mention that that would be against Bureau regulation,” Ava says, proud that her voice does not crack over the words.

Sara returns with the smallest huff of something like laughter, “Good thing I’m fucking the boss.”

“Sara-”

“Come on, Director Sharpe, come for me.”

It is hard to argue with that. Especially when Sara picks up the pace, not only fast but rough now, kissing Ava with a passion that is easy to drown in. Easy to get lost in. It does not take much after that.

Her orgasm builds and overwhelms her before she really has time to process it. Moaning into Sara’s mouth as she comes, a sound of static in her ears, a spark that seems to overwhelm every inch of her being, until she’s left with her body shaking in the aftermath, left with the feeling of Sara working her slowly through the aftershocks until she finally pulls her fingers fully out. 

Ava comes back to herself, slowly but surely, Sara’s forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling together as they lay there for a second in the aftermath. 

“And how was that,” Sara asks, the question slow and easy, picking up a teasing note at the end as she adds two simple words - “ _ Director Sharpe _ ?”

She has to admit.

On Sara’s lips, the title doesn’t sound half bad. 

She thinks maybe she could get used to it.

Just maybe.

“Not bad, Captain Lance, not bad at all.”

  
  
  



End file.
